


Go Get Him, Peter Pan

by eureka1



Series: Cabaret [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Humor, M/M, Porn, RPS - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eureka1/pseuds/eureka1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RPS sequel to Life is a Cabaret. Although this one-shot can be read on its own, you’ll probably enjoy it more if you read ‘Life is a Cabaret’ first. Sequel inspired by Robert Gant’s instagram post of 15 August 2016 and by the Rise ‘n Shine Back to the Roots 2016 convention in Toronto. Gale and Randy are again besieged by adoring fans, but this time even more of their ‘Queer as Folk’ family are watching their backs . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Get Him, Peter Pan

**Author's Note:**

> Banner by the amazing samcdee.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my three incredible betas: Brynn_Jones, TAGSIT, and samcdee.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a fictional story for entertainment purposes. I am not claiming that the main characters are in any kind of relationship or that this story is a reflection of their friendship.

 

“Oh, my god, Shirley, it’s my wet dream come true!” Louisa shrieked louder than she’d intended. When she glanced to her right, she discovered that her friend had vanished. She turned to quickly glance around the Cafe La Boheme’s spacious main room but didn’t see Shirley anywhere. Even if she and her BFF had spent the last month planning this evening together, there was no way Louisa was to going to leave the room to search for the idiot - not when the ‘Queer as Folk’ cast and crew had just made their appearance. Louisa had almost pissed herself from excitement when she’d first heard that so many of the Folk family would be attending the documentary series event on the history of gay television, which was being hosted in conjunction with a fundraiser to support the Orlando LGBT center. She might live in Hollywood but, even in the land of movie stars, opportunities like these were few and far between.

 

Louisa suddenly felt someone tugging on the hem of her red suede Oscar de la Renta knock-off. What the fuck? She glanced down and saw her friend sitting on the floor. “Shirley, what the heck are you doing down there?” she asked with another piercing screech.

 

When Shirley motioned to her to bend over, she reluctantly did so. Louisa wouldn’t mind at all if Peter, Scott, or *swoon* Randy and Gale, got an eyeful, but she didn’t see the point in wasting the view of her pleasingly plump posterior on the other fanatic female groupies in the room. Bending down, she tried to position herself so that if any of the studly males did glance in her direction, they’d see her ass-ets displayed to their best advantage. “What’s your problem?” she hissed at Shirley in a shrill voice. “They’re here! Get up!”

 

“I know they’re here!” Shirley retorted loudly so her bestie would hear her over the buzz created by all the enthusiastic fans. “If I get up, everyone’s going to see the giant stain on the back of my red suede pants. I got so excited when Gale appeared that I creamed myself THREE TIMES.” Unfortunately, she ended up shouting that news just as the pushy, obsessive female fans - most of them of the middle-aged, out-of-shape variety - quieted in response to Scott taking the microphone. Everyone’s heads swung toward Louisa and Shirley. Since they couldn’t see Shirley in her spot on the floor, all their tittering amusement, scornful looks, and pitying glances cascaded over Louisa instead. What had she been thinking when she and Shirley had dressed identically - like the Bobbsey Twins run amok?

 

Louisa wished a hole would open up and swallow her. She’d NEVER been so mortified. The other Folk fanatics thought SHE was the one who’d creamed herself! A kind voice penetrated her daze. “Never fear. These accidents happen sometimes.” Peter draped his jacket around Louisa’s waist and looped the sleeves together so that the garment would stay in place. “Honey, you do know red really isn’t your color, don’t you? If I were you, I’d stick with basic black. No tucks or pleats at the waistline,” Peter suggested as he speculatively eyed Louisa’s stout form. “Black can be very slimming.”

 

After giving that advice, Peter turned to rejoin his friends. Shirley seethed, “This isn’t at all fair. I have soaking wet panties, while you’re wearing Peter’s jacket.”

 

Many in the audience laughed, some rather maliciously, as they rejoiced in Shirley and Louisa’s misery. Better them than me! Two fewer contenders for the boys’ attention!

 

**********

 

“You’re a good man, Peter,” Gale said, placing an arm around his friend’s shoulders as he rejoined the gang at the front of the room.

 

“I don’t know if she’s seen the light as far as flattering apparel goes, but I did my best.” Peter shrugged in dismissal of the fashion disaster. “Seriously, that outfit was much worse than the stain that’s presumably spreading across the crotch of the woman’s pants. I didn’t want to look so closely that I’d actually see or, God forbid, SMELL it.” Everyone shuddered at that repulsive notion. No sirree, no thank you!

 

Randy sympathetically patted Peter on the back, his fingers brushing along Gale’s arm and causing the fine brunet hairs to rise up in response. Cabaret’s famous Emcee handed Peter a glass almost overflowing with orangey mimosa goodness. “Here you go. Gulp this down and you’ll quickly recover from your moment of altruism. Sharon’s on the way with another, so you don’t need to make this one last.”

 

“Bless you . . . Baby,” Peter teasingly replied with a wink.

 

Gale snorted. Even though they never pushed for details about his suspected relationship with Randy, the gang wasn’t above subtly razzing the two men. Gale knew Peter had purposefully called Randy ‘Baby’, just as Emmett had done in the show, to see if it would spark intervention from Gale/Brian. Peter was clearly pushing for them to get it together and come out publicly about their relationship. Gale was definitely in favor of that idea, but didn’t want to chance the plan backfiring and alienating Randy.

 

“You two studs need to tone down the effect you have on the ladies,” Scott chided. “Leave some of them for me.”

 

“Honey,” Peter joked, gesturing to the table where the brassy blonde in the tight red leather pants and Peter’s blazer had settled in, “you can have my ardent admirer.” The woman was staring at Peter with googly eyes, completely enraptured by the gentlemanly queen.

 

“Holy shit!” Sharon quickly choked off her exclamation and continued more quietly, “did you realize there’s two of them, Peter?” She handed Peter his second mimosa and skillfully suppressed the bemused horror that had flickered across her face.

 

As if they’d been told not to look and therefore couldn’t resist, everyone’s gazes swiveled to the gal with the bottled blonde hair and her companion.

 

“Michelle, my dear, how does a woman get into pants that tight?” Dan asked, smothering a laugh at the way the two women kept squirming in place.

 

“With a great deal of difficulty,” Michelle murmured, snorting indelicately. “I can remember lying on my back on the disgusting carpet in my college dorm room, my best dress jeans around my knees, bracing my legs against the wall, and doing the tug-n-slither until I finally got the damned things on. Then I’d suck in my gut and inch the zipper upward.”

 

“Really?”

 

“What’d you do when you needed to pee?”

 

“How’d you get up off the floor?”

 

“Surely you weren’t able to dance. What a shame!”

 

The gang peppered Michelle with comments and questions, making it impossible for her to tell who’d asked what.

 

“I figured any amount of pain was worth it to attract Fred’s attention,” Michelle replied, smiling fondly at the memory of her crazy younger self. “It was the last time I wore those rhinestone-studded jeans, though.”

 

“And? What happened?” Robert prompted. 

 

“It got hot and heavy with Fred,” Michelle managed to get out between giggles, “but we couldn’t get those damned jeans off of me. Freddie did manage to lower my zipper, pinching my skin a few times in the process.”

 

All six men blanched and moved to cover their genitals at the thought of THAT skin caught in the teeth of a malignant zipper.

 

“I held onto the rings in the headboard - was that man ever into kink! - and Fred tugged and tugged. But, even with the zipper open, those jeans wouldn’t budge one inch. Freddie finally threw up his hands in exasperation and grabbed his pocket knife. I held my breath for what seemed like hours while he inserted the knife in between the denim and my hip, blade pointing upward, and carefully sliced down along the side of my thigh and leg.” Michelle concluded, “Although I never wore skintight jeans again, it was well worth it that one time. I ached for weeks - in a positive, life-affirming way - from the ‘punishment’ Freddie inflicted.”

 

Toward the end of Michelle’s story, both Gale and Randy started to get a bit twitchy. Gale slouched, trying to disguise the tenting of his jeans. Randy lowered his hands so he could hold the brochure advertising the docu-series in front of his crotch. Gale glanced toward the gents’ and then at Randy, shifting slightly toward the rear of the room. 

 

“Sheeeit!” Peter moaned, “You’ve gotten me all worked up, Darlin. And here I am, stuck with a bunch of horny, hetero women, no relief in sight.” He muttered, “Damn!” as he noted the surreptitious departure of his friends out of the corner of his eye, before sighing, “well, at least somebody’s gonna get some.” The tall, balding man shifted closer to everyone else to hide Gale and Randy’s departure from view as they ducked behind the divider leading to the restrooms. Dan and Sharon, talking animatedly, then moseyed over so they were also next to the divider and could redirect any fans who might want to use those facilities.

 

“This had better be a quickie,” Robert murmured to Michelle and Scott. “The screening of the first episode of the docu-series is about to begin. Speculation will run rampant among the fans if Gale and Randy either don’t join us, or if they look freshly fucked when they sit down at our table. Or worse, if they disappear entirely until the screening is over.”

 

**********

 

Gale and Randy tumbled through the door of men’s room, their desperate groping and kissing belying the fact that they’d sucked and fucked three times in the hour before they’d left Gale’s house. They’d agreed to drive Randy’s nondescript blue Ford sedan rental car - a vehicle that wouldn’t be recognized by any stalking fans - to the Cafe La Boheme for the docu-series screening and fundraiser. As they’d rushed out of the house, they’d been madly doing up their trousers. Now they were even more rapidly unzipping and dropping them. 

 

Neither said anything as Gale bent over, holding tightly onto the edges of the sink, legs splayed as wide as he could manage within the constraints of the slacks around his ankles. Randy made quick work of adding a bit of lube to his boy’s ass. Not much was needed since Gale was still well prepped from their final fuck of the afternoon. Sheathed and lubed, Randy positioned himself and eased into Gale’s welcoming warmth in one slow, steady push. Both men released sighs of pleasure and relief as Randy bottomed out, his balls resting against Gale’s. The younger man gradually picked up the tempo, the only noise the rhythmic slip-slap as Randy pulled out and then pushed back in. Leaning forward, Randy stood on his tiptoes and let Gale take his weight so that he could wind one hand through the shaggy brunet locks and jerk Gale’s head back in counterpoint to his thrusts. 

 

Balancing on their toes would have been difficult for anyone else, but Randy had lots of practice in compensating for their height difference. The strenuous workout from his role in Cabaret had developed his calf muscles even further, so much so that standing like this was now nearly effortless for the extremely fit young man. Randy reached around with his other hand to encircle Gale’s cock, so that each time Randy thrust into Gale’s ass, Gale’s dick pushed into Randy’s fist. When both of them were nearly ready to erupt, Randy wrenched Gale’s head back even further. Gale obligingly twisted his head to the side. Lips locked, Randy plowed into Gale again. The brunet’s come shot out, splattering the sink and dripping onto the floor. The tightening of Gale’s ass triggered Randy’s release, and he grunted as his own come flowed out, filling the condom.

 

Randy released Gale’s prick and pulled out slowly, regretting his departure from that snug tunnel. He wobbled a bit as he stepped back. Gale still hadn’t moved, so Randy bestowed a quick squeeze and a kiss to his ass cheeks before bending over and drawing Gale’s jeans up along those endless, sexy legs. No movement. Randy tucked in Gale’s dick, checked to make sure no tender flesh would be pinched, and then zipped up the jeans.

 

“Gale? You okay?” the younger stud queried, concerned that his lover still hadn’t uttered a word or moved away from the sink.

 

Gale struggled to compose himself. Only one week until Randy would be on his way to San Diego with the cast and crew of Cabaret. The older man had gotten spoiled with Randy in Los Angeles and then Costa Mesa for what would be a total of six weeks. It had almost seemed like the halcyon days and years in Toronto when they’d spent hours getting to know each other and exploring one another’s bodies. Unfortunately, this interlude was rapidly coming to an end. Sure, the Bilbao fanmeet was coming up in September but, after that, it could well be months before they saw each other again. Shit! He felt like a rat on a treadmill. A few short weeks ago, Gale had convinced himself that he and Randy would have the dreaded relationship talk in Bilbao, if not sooner. Nevertheless, he worried. What if Randy still refused to publicly acknowledge their relationship? Gale couldn’t give him up. Randy was the only lover he wanted. He hoped he wouldn’t wimp out and back down if Randy proved intractable; he didn’t want to appear weak to Randy or in his own eyes. He knew that in the end, though, he couldn’t let his Sunshine go. The man was like a drug coursing through his blood, providing the best high imaginable. Yes, crumbs were definitely better than nothing.

 

Gale refused to let his melancholy show; even though Randy hadn’t said anything, Gale had almost convinced himself that the younger man was also dreading their upcoming separation. So he straightened up, turned, and smirked, “Yeah, I’m good, Blondie. Just a little tired, although I can’t imagine why.” 

 

He reached out to run one hand through Randy’s hair and chuckled, “Guess I shouldn’t call you Blondie, huh? Don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you as a brunet. There is something kinda hot, though, about fucking someone who looks like a near-stranger.”

 

“Anything to make sure you don’t lose interest,” Randy retorted with one of his enticing giggles.

 

Gale rolled his eyes. As if. He leaned down to kiss the man who had him wrapped around his little finger. Well, wrapped around his dick.

 

As usual, their kiss became more heated and threatened to lead to another round of fucking. Fortunately, rat-a-tat knocking on the door, followed by Scott’s announcement that the screening was beginning, broke through their sexual haze. Gale and Randy separated and slipped through the bathroom door. First Gale, then Scott, and finally Randy reappeared next to Sharon. No one noticed anything amiss as the foursome sauntered over to their table, although Randy’s face was suspiciously pink.

 

A lively discussion about the docu-series followed the preview of the first episode. The co-director of the series thanked everyone for attending. “As you know, we’re particularly honored to have eight members of the groundbreaking television series ‘Queer as Folk’ here with us tonight. They’ve graciously agreed to respond to questions for the next forty-five minutes.” He motioned to the Folk cast and crew to come to the front of the room.

 

A buzz of excitement emanated from the crowd as the gang stood up and then settled themselves into a row of chairs facing everyone else. The gathering had enjoyed the screening and had been pleased to open their pocketbooks in support of the Orlando LGBT center, but the main draw for most of them was this opportunity to chat with one of the directors and most of the main characters from their favorite show.

 

Dan fielded the queries about a resumption of the immensely popular series - or at least a movie - with his usual aplomb. “We’ve long been ready to take on either option, although we’d prefer the regular paycheck that would come from a reboot.” His wry tone elicited chuckles from the audience. “Until the Showtime execs are convinced, however, that a reboot would appeal to more than a niche segment of the television audience, we’re paddling up the proverbial creek. We need Brian Kinney’s marketing skills, but he appears to have gone walkabout. Let me know if you see him, would you?”

 

At that, everyone hooted, many of them pointing at Gale. The actor simply shook his head. “Sadly, Ron and Dan haven’t yet written that script, so I can’t help.”

 

“I’ll help you write it, honey,” trilled a sharp-featured blonde woman, in what she presumably thought was a sultry tone, but reminded Gale more of a buzz saw. “Fuck! There she is again,” Gale complained in a low voice to Randy, who’d taken the seat to his right.

 

“Have to give her marks for persistence,” Randy muttered. “Maybe Scott would take her off your hands?” he suggested.

 

“Tried that already. Scott’s not interested in that bitchy, beady-eyed cougar,” Gale gloomily replied. “There has to be a way to get her off my tail, but I haven’t found it yet.” 

 

“Well, you are the cat’s meow. I should know,” Randy ended the sotto voice conversation, barely tuning in to the next question in time to respond.

 

Dark-haired red pants, who’d been dying to ask her question for years, shot a lascivious, flirty look at Randy, while running her tongue across her lips. “Th . . . that scene when you b . . . bit Brian on the chin,” she began, stammering slightly, “was that scripted, or was it spontaneous?”

 

Randy paused before saying, “I have no memory of that. Sorry.” A pink flush crept across his face as he continued, “No, really. I don’t even know which moment you’re referring to. Was it a sex scene?”

 

At red pants’ nod, Randy added, “Well, then, there you have it. If it was scripted, I followed the script. If not, it was spontaneous. I was probably just trying to come up with something we hadn’t done before.”

 

Randy’s blush morphed from pink to fiery crimson as the fans roared with laughter and he realized what he’d implied. He almost dropped his microphone as he, too, burst out laughing.

 

Scott called out, “So, Dan . . . Did you and Ron write in the script, ‘Justin bites Brian on the chin’?”

 

Before Dan could answer, Sharon interjected, “You know, there’s something I’ve never told anyone before.”

 

Calls requesting, “Tell. Do tell.” issued from the throng.

 

“I’d sometimes get so distracted during scenes when I was waiting tables at the diner,” Sharon related, “by the way you two kissed.” Sharon flushed and waved her hand in front of her face. “It was really hot and sexy.”

 

Michelle chimed in, “Me too. It turned me on. I remember one scene where the whole gang was in the diner, and I forgot my lines because I was looking at you two snogging. I think we had to do three takes before I finally got out the lines I was supposed to speak.”

 

Heads nodded throughout the room. One matronly woman shouted, “Heck, all I was doing was watching and I’d have a spontaneous orgasm every time Brian and Justin went at it!”

 

After the question and answer session - which was riddled with more bon mots and gales of laughter - ended, the Folk family posed for photos, including some with fans.

 

“Did you all shop for your eyeglasses at the same place?” a perky, petite redhead asked. “You guys look so sexy.”

 

Gale arched one eyebrow and moistened his lips as his glance swept over the thirty-something redhead’s curvaceous body. As if sensing Gale’s flicker of interest in the cutie, Randy recalled his attention by caressing Gale’s arm behind Michelle’s back. Well, thought Gale, he’d just been appreciating the woman’s appearance, without wanting to get to know her. A bit of the green-eyed monster, however, couldn’t hurt his future prospects. Randy should know by now, though, that no one could deflect his focus from his blond for more than a moment.

 

Scott wittily retorted, “It’s mandatory eyewear for cast and crew with vision deficiencies. I, on the other hand, have 20/20 vision. Perhaps you’d care to have a drink with me sometime?”

 

“Actually, I would love to. I always thought you looked a bit like George Clooney.” The young woman accepted Scott’s card, on which he’d jotted down his cell number, with a satisfied smile.

 

**********

 

Later that night, when they’d all decamped to Gale’s house, no one was surprised that Randy, clearly comfortable in Gale’s kitchen, helped set out snacks and serve shots of Beam to everyone, except Peter, who wanted another mimosa. They’d all come to prefer Beam and fruity drinks during the years in Toronto.

 

“Here’s to Brian Kinney!” Scott humorously toasted, “long may his taste in bourbon reign!”

 

The gang reminisced, laughed, shared news about other members of the Folk family, and tried to figure out how they could get together more frequently. It had been rare enough for Scott, Michelle, Gale, and Randy to connect at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre, but - since filming of ‘Queer as Folk’ had wrapped - it was nearly unprecedented for one of the directors and seven of the cast who had played major characters to be in the same place at the same time. Even at the conventions, which were arranged for cast, crew, and fans to mingle, there were always some who couldn’t participate due to other commitments.

 

Michelle and Peter, who had pulled out some of Gale’s photo albums, started cackling hysterically. “What’s with the three of you in this photo?” Michelle gasped.

 

Peter chortled, “You look like you had gas and were about to erupt, Scotty, just like Mt. Vesuvius.”

 

“What’s with that ‘do, Randy? Was the ‘squirrel died on my head’ look the latest style for young actors that month?” Scott queried, manfully ignoring Peter’s sniggering.

 

 

Randy took the photo album from Scott and facepalmed in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe Gale had kept that godawful photo of the three of them. It was damned funny, though. He began giggling, “I think we raided Kinney’s stash before that promotional photo shoot. Look how dilated Gale’s pupils are.” 

 

“Well, I guess that explains the expressions on Gale and Scott’s faces,” Peter conceded. “Looks like that weed made you sunshiney happy, Baby.” Peter nudged Randy, “Just look at your smile. But who chose those horrendous togs? And here I thought the red pant twins at the screening tonight lacked fashion sense. Big Bad Brian would never have worn any of those ensembles.”

 

While Gale gave everyone else a tour of his new house, Scott pulled Randy aside. “Don’t fuck this up, Randy,” he advised. “It’s clear how much you two care about each other. Gale and I periodically meet up for drinks and, even though he never says anything, I can tell how much he’s pining for you. No one outside our extended family would guess, but in the intimate pressure cooker of the ‘Queer as Folk’ set, it was immediately clear that Gale was smitten with you. And that hasn’t changed.”

 

“Scott, I don’t want to damage Gale’s career. I’m not worried about myself. I’ve been openly gay since I was in my teens and I’ve done fairly well professionally. If Gale comes out as bisexual, however, and the two of us declare that we’re in a relationship, I think it might hurt his chances of landing roles in movie, television, and stage dramas and comedies.” Randy held up a hand to forestall Scott’s protest. “I know starring in ‘Queer as Folk’ hasn’t limited his options - even though Gale took a big chance when he accepted that role. Still, it’s always something to be be concerned about, given the current political climate. You and I both know that.”

 

Randy earnestly continued, “Besides, why would Gale want to be involved with someone who’s on the road all the time? There’s Bilbao in mid-September, but I don’t know how many months it will be before we can see each other after that. Right now, I’m committed to touring with Cabaret through February. If I don’t have a better offer before my contract expires, I may even re-up till the end of the tour next summer.”

 

“Randy, how’s that any different from what you’ve been doing ever since the show’s finale? Gale travels for the same reasons you do.” Scott reached out and placed his hands on Randy’s shoulders, shaking them slightly to emphasize his point, “It’s difficult to find the right partner, whether you’re gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, or asexual. The two of you are lucky; you discovered the person you were meant to be with sixteen years ago.” 

 

When they heard the others returning, Scott added, “Just think about it, Randy. Don’t let go of what matters most, like Brian almost did with Justin. You don’t want Gale to have to subsist on the crumbs of your affection forever, do you?”

 

“Hey, not so serious, you two! This is a Folk party,” Gale joshed, concerned by the slight frown marring Randy’s face. “Let’s roll a joint and have another drink. No need for you to head home tonight. Everyone can crash here.”

 

**********

 

Seven days later, Gale returned home late in the morning and wandered through his house, already desperately missing Randy. He and Randy had spent their final night curled up in Randy’s hotel room because the tour was departing super early in the morning so they’d have time to settle in and familiarize themselves with the San Diego Civic Theatre. Gale had barely slept, knowing he’d have to sneak out of the hotel early so that none of the other Cabaret cast would see him. He couldn’t stop worrying that Randy might get cold feet in regard to their relationship and go incommunicado - it had happened before. Granted, he hadn’t seen any recent signs of that, and Randy wouldn’t be able to avoid him entirely with the Bilbao fanmeet rapidly approaching. However, Gale hadn’t picked up any signals that they were moving forward with their relationship either. Although Randy had been his normal, friendly self with the gang, he hadn’t displayed any physical affection toward Gale in front of their family last week.

 

The brunet headed into the bedroom for his running clothes. Maybe if he got out of the house and ran along the beach, he’d feel better and would figure out how he should proceed with Randy. When he entered his bedroom, though, his sadness lifted and he broke out into a huge grin. 

 

A small pile of clothing had been placed in the center of Gale’s bed. The note standing up inside one of Randy’s tennis shoes proposed, “So, Big Guy, would you like to make room in your drawers for my drawers?” For the first time in sixteen years, Gale believed he was in a real relationship with Randy, instead of some kind of unstable on-again, off-again, whatever-the-fuck. Here was tangible evidence that Randy cared.

  
Not only did he now have some physical evidence that Randy DID care about him, he’d also received an encouraging, supportive text from Thea, who lived in Victoria, Canada. That, too, gave him a renewed surge of confidence that he and Randy WOULD somehow make a go of it. She’d written, Go get him, Peter Pan. I think your Sunshine has finally grown up and is ready to be with you. You’re no longer Lost Boys. --Your Wendy, xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> The George Clooney reference is dedicated to soirsagrey.
> 
> Peter’s drinking mimosas just for you, TAG.
> 
> In the latter part of September, there will be one more one-shot in this series. Stay tuned!


End file.
